What’s to understand? Some people are just flat-out dicks.
His inner thought nearly had him smiling as the wheels of the jet touched down. The sudden jolt sending all four men slightly forward in their seats, and as the jet slowed to a stop, the team stood and began gathering their gear.
Minutes later, they were walking across the pavement toward two matching SUVs. Blacked out and tinted to the max, the unmarked vehicles looked more like those of the US Secret Service than one of their boss’s wealthy friends.
The doors to one of the SUVs opened, and six tall, fit, and deadly looking men began pouring out. Like Beckett and his team, these guys were dressed in civilian clothes since their usual combat clothing was unnecessary for this particular op.
“Guess that’s them.” Beckett shifted the strap of his backpack as it hung from one of his shoulders. The straps of his MP5 kept the weapon secured loosely against his back.
Falcon smirked as he stepped up to Beckett’s left. “If not, I have a feeling this little meet-up is about to get really interesting.”
“You the SEALs from Hawaii?” Digger asked the men point-blank.
“Depends.” One of the guys on the other team gave a non-answer. “You Tac-Ops from North Carolina?”
Tall. Bearded. Dark hair and eyes.
The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and even beneath the night sky with him fully clothed all in black, it was clear he was fitter than most. But what impressed Beckett even more was the guy’s lip-curving response to Digger’s not-so-friendly greeting.
Any man—or woman, for that matter—who wasn’t afraid to go tit-for-tat with Dig couldn’t be all that bad. Right?
“Mustang,” the gruff-looking man introduced himself to Dig.
“Digger.
The two men shook hands.
“Ah, one of the two fellow frogmen on your team.” Mustang grinned. “And, unless I’m mistaken, you’re the one in charge of your team?”
“I am.” Digger nodded.
“Good. Now, I hear we have a billionaire to save.”
“That’s what we’ve been told.”
“Well, then…” Mustang gave Beckett and the others a cursory glance. “What do you say we get through the rest of the intros so we can get down to business.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“All right, well…like I said, I’m Mustang. And this tall bastard”—he playfully smacked his fist against the shoulder of the man to his left—“is Midas.”
Standing several inches above Mustang’s six-foot frame, the blond haired, blue-eyed SEAL gave them all a half-wave and a nod. In Beckett’s opinion, the guy looked more like he belonged on the big screen, rather than slumming it with the likes of them.
“That’s Pid,” Mustang continued with the next man on his team. “He’s our resident electronics expert.”
“And this surly bastard here is Slate.” Pid nudged the tall guy standing beside him.
“Surly bastard?” Beckett’s brows rose with his smile as he turned his attention to the leader of Tac-Ops. “Damn, Dig. Did we just find your long-lost brother?”
Digger’s dark stare intensified as he sent Beckett a look that screamedfuck off.So of course, being the immature asshole that he was, Beckett simply blew off the silent warning and landed a friendly slap against the man’s broad back.
“Nice to meet you.” He offered Mustang his hand.
“Likewise.” The other man acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re the medic, right?”
“Nah, I just play one on T.V.”
A small huff of a chuckle lifted Pid’s shoulders, and the man’s crooked nose appeared to curve with his smile.